Une famille dans l'ombre
by Midnight Writer Shadrach
Summary: UP FOR ADOPTION!
1. The Begining 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

Charlus Potter made his way down the empty corridors of Hogwarts wanted to make sure he wasn't seen by anyone that could compromise his position. He may have been a Prefect but what he was heading to do right now was anything but golden, and he sure didn't want to be questioned about where he was going. Looking around the corner slowly, he spotted Septimus Weasley pacing up and down the hall. What the hell was his friend doing out so late at night? Curfew had long since ended. Taking a deep breath, Charlus drew himself up to his full height and stepped out of the shadows.

"Septimus… late night for you, isn't it?" Charlus muttered, startling the red haired boy who looked to see who had spoken in the darkness.

The redhead looked quite relieved to see it was only Charlus.

"Hi there, Charlus. What are _you_ doing out so late," he asked right back, fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt all the while.

"I'm the Prefect of Gryffindor, Septimus," Charlus replied matter-of-factly, much like speaking to an ignorant child. "I'm _supposed_ to patrol the Gryffindor corridors at night."

Septimus flushed a deep red and looked up at him, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he realized something.

"Charlus, this isn't the Gryffindor-"

"Look," Charlus interrupted with an overdone smile, realizing his mistake, "how about you get going and I won't have to report this little incident. Gryffindors have to look out for each other, after all."

Septimus perked up and smiled brilliantly.

"Thanks, mate. Good looking out for me on your part. I better be getting back to the tower before anyone notices I'm missing."

Charlus watched until his friend rounded the corner before continuing on his walk just as carefully and slowly as before. The person he was meeting might complain about him being late, but at least he wouldn't be caught.

Soon he arrived at what appeared to be just a brick wall with an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy attempting to train trolls. Not skipping a beat, Charlus walked past the tapestry three times thinking about the person he was meeting. A huge iron door appeared entering into the Room of Requirements. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

"You're late, Potter," rumbled the deep voice of Abraxus Malfoy, who was sneering, suspicion in his eyes. "Our lord was expecting you fifteen minutes ago, and he gets very....how do you say… _over-zealous_ with certain curses when kept waiting."

"Well I'm here now," Charlus managed to utter. "And what do you know… no Aurors! Can you show me the way now?" he continued, feeling a confidence building, noticing that Abraxus's sneer became more pronounced.

"You are not going anywhere without proper instructions, Potter. First, when you see him, you must bow. Your bow can be short since this is your first time at a meeting, but if he accepts you, make it longer next time. Don't speak until spoken to. When you are given permission to speak, keep it short and to the point. If he accepts you into our little 'club,' bow and say, 'thank you Lord Voldemort.' However…" Abraxus continued, an ancient evil flashing in his eyes, "If he doesn't accept you into our little 'club,' expect to be obliviated… I wouldn't recommend struggling. It makes our job so much harder."

Without thinking, Charlus managed a weak nod of assent.

"Well I believe it's time to enter," Abraxus said, pushing the second doors open. With that, Abraxus disappeared into the doorway. Charlus was left by himself outside the door, confused as to if he should follow or wait. Even so, he craned his ear to hear what would be said.

"My lord…. Charlus Potter has survived for his audience with you," Abraxus announced

"Excellent," a soft, velvety voice replied. "You may present him to me."

Upon hearing the encouraging words from what appeared to be a rather soft-spoken man, Charlus felt his confidence soar. Instead of waiting for Abraxus to come and get him, Charlus strode into the room, a smirk on his face. As he strode to the center of what looked like a court setting from a castle, he took in his surroundings.

There were about fifty students in deep black robes that looked like they were made from shadows on each side of the room, all wearing silver masks. He almost froze mid-step when he spotted the unmistakable violet eyes of Dorea Black behind one silver mask. Though he was curious, his focus returned to Abraxus, standing on the side of a seated figure. Tom Riddle, a clean-shaven young man, sat on a throne looking unperturbed by Charlus's abrupt entrance.

Remembering Abraxus's instructions from only moments earlier, Charlus bowed halfway, refusing to dirty himself by bowing fully to a half-blood. He didn't consider this to be prejudiced, but rather that he was a pure-blood and simply better in every way. There was a tense silence before Riddle spoke.

"Well, Potter; I would say this is most unexpected, but that would be a lie," Voldemort replied in an unaffected voice. He paused for a moment to properly readjust the ring on his finger. "I admit myself surprised when you approached me and asked for an audience with Lord Voldemort." Another pause, before he again continued. "The first thought to cross my mind was how did he know about our little 'club'. Only the elite are invited, after all. However, Abraxus pointed out how close you and Miss Black are," he said emotionlessly, sweeping his finger towards the group of robed students to indicate the girl, "and I have to say, I'm unsurprised that she 'spilled the beans,' as the muggles would say." With that, he flashed a rather poisonous glance in Dorea's direction. "We will speak of this after the meeting, Miss Black; don't think we won't." Riddle's stony but aloof countenance faltered not once under all the stares of the children. Dorea felt a lump rise in her throat, but nodded, knowing the consequences of what she did and accepting it.

Charlus felt guilty for getting Dorea into this situation, but resolved himself to not think about it.

Riddle then turned his gaze again to the slowly crumbling countence of Charlus Potter, who was still standing at the front of the room, left a bit speechless upon hearing of Voldemort's knowledge of his and Dorea's association.

"You have your audience now, Potter; so speak!" Riddle suddenly commanded, startling Charlus from his reverie so as to cause him to flinch. The boy stole a brief but wide-eyed glance in the direction of Dorea Black, and recomposed himself quickly. He knew now was the time to gather his thoughts, even with all those eyes watching… It was now time to put all those pure-blood politics lessons to good. With that thought in mind, Charlus took a deep breath, locked eyes with the sinister but deep blue eyes of Tom Riddle, and began to speak.


	2. The Begining 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

_-- Excerpt From Potter Lineage History Scroll--_

_The 1300s were a time of great tension. The Dark Arts had just come into existence and wizards were quickly becoming addicted to the power and influence it held. It was during the 1300s that the Potter line was split down the middle between light and darkness. All began during the Founder's Era when Victavious Potter apprenticed himself to one of the Slytherin descendents to learn the art of Potion making, having been considered in those days to be a Dark Art._

_The Patriarch of the Potter line at the time, Acario Potter, furious at Victavious's involvement with Dark magics, presented him with an ultimatum. Victavious was informed he must give up his dabbling in the Dark Arts or he would be disowned by the family as a failure, an outcast. Victavious refused to give up his learned art, claiming it was his passion. He insisted that it was not Dark magic, just a different kind of magic. In Acario's subsequent fury, he disowned Victavious and anyone who sympathized with him from the Potter family. Many of the Potter line felt the treatment of Victavious was unjustified, and those Potters who felt oppressed by Acario's completely light ways followed Victavious's lead and left the Potter line on their own. The ones that left were few in number but were enough to establish a minor Potter line, a Dark Potter line is now scattered around the globe. Some of these members are informed, others ignorant about their lineage, status, and entitlement to the Potter vault _

_--Cato Potter 1570_

Looking Riddle straight in the eye, Charlus spoke.

"Every since I can remember I've been attracted to magic, Dark magic more than any other…. It's truly enticing, dangerous, powerful, and different from all the magic I was used to at the Potter Manor. I became fascinated with Dark magic so much that I actively sought it out. It then that I realized that I was becoming obsessed with Dark magic and the signs became more noticeable. Such as when I came into close proximity of a Dark artifact, I almost went crazy until I found it, or the fact that I couldn't sleep without a dark artifact beside me. I turned to the Potter library for information, finding that I have a very rare affinity for Dark. That didn't make much sense to me at first, but then I found out that it means that I can use the Dark Arts with less power than others. And yet, it'll have the same or a better effect. Along with being able to use Dark magic, I can feel it in the air, like a cold chill going through me… a kind of chill I like to feel."

Feeling relieved that he had explained his past well enough; Charlus shifted to a more comfortable position and calmed his nerves, preparing his next words.

"Let's get to the point now, Riddle," he said, eyes narrowed to slits. "The only reason I'm trusting you with this information is because I want you to train me further in the Dark Arts." Riddle's response was that of outrage, his face turning quite a shade of red.

Upon seeing Riddle's outraged expression, Charlus hastened to explain. "Please just hear me out. Everyone in this school knows you're the best wizard besides Dumbledore. Few know that you're also one of the best Dark Wizards too… but that is beside the point." He hadn't wanted to ramble, but it seemed as if he had been speaking for an hour. "The only person who is doing better than you right now as a Dark wizard is Grindlewald, and his reign is most definitely almost over, from what I hear." With that, Charlus flashed Tom Riddle a knowing smirk, mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done.

Riddle was quiet for a few tense moments. Charlus could feel the air teeming with Dark magic, his hair standing on end with chills. It could be argued as to whether those chills were due to the Dark magic in the room or his own nervousness. Finally Riddle spoke.

"So if I agree to train you, boy, what do I get out of this?" he asked, a savage gleam in his eyes.

Charlus couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction knowing that Riddle was considering it.

"You get an heir of a pure-blood family as a potential ally. You get a student to teach what you know and possibly succeed you, and you get a quicker way to gather followers."

Noticing Voldemort's look of impatience, Charlus explained further.

"How many times have you had to reconsider a recruit because you were not sure if he or she actually used the Dark Arts? Well, I can sense Dark magic so you'll never have to wonder again; you'll instantly know." Charlus beamed confidently, satisfied with his reasoning.

Riddle looked like he was thinking it over.

"Malfoy, Prince, Nott, Dolohov… Get over here now!" Riddle suddenly commanded, startling Charlus.

Malfoy and three other cloaked figures from the crowd rushed over, forming a huddle with Riddle. Charlus attempted to hear what they were speaking of but couldn't hear any of the rapid whispers. Even so, he could hear some angry hissing spewing out from the crowd as Riddle broke away from the circle.

"Tell you what—I'll think about your proposition, Potter…. but for now, you are dismissed."

Charlus was rendered speechless, shocked at not receiving a definite answer from the Dark Wizard. So shocked that he didn't even notice Malfoy beginning to lead him from the room.

"Oh, and just so you know…," Voldemort's voice called out after him, "as soon as you entered this room you were put under an Unbreakable Vow. So you can't reveal any of the happenings of tonight to anyone who doesn't already know. Sweet dreams Mr. Potter."

As soon as Charlus stepped through the doorway, the door slammed shut right behind him.


	3. The Begining 3

Disclaimer:I don't own Harry Potter.

**Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews and people adding my story to their favorites and story alerts! I had no idea my story would be this popular but I'm glad. At first it seemed like a good idea when it just came to me in a thought, and I'm glad to see I was right and people really are interested. Thanks again for the reviews!**

**Thoughts: From now on thoughts will be in bold print.**

_--Excerpt From Acario Potter's Private Journal--_

_It has been sixty-five years since Victavious left the Potter line, and well, I'll admit that I've been bitter about how it seems like things never turn out the way we want them to. Upon Victavious's leave, several branches of the Potter line had to declare bankruptcy with Gringotts, and have slowly slipped into famine and sickness with the Dark Potter line draining the family's vault. It seems that when Victavious was disowned he took the Potters of our line that were masters of their fields…. He formed quite a Dark union, its members experts in Transfiguration, Charms, Ancient Runes, and Herbology. Previously these ambitious members were the main source of the Potter line's income. Without them our currency slowly dwindled. Of course, in the first few years we never noticed the decline of money from the Potter vault because of the immense amount of wealth we had amassed… but over the last few years the Dark Potters' rich living style has reduced us to our last few galleons, sickles, and knuts._

_We squabble over the smallest amount of food, fight in the streets like commoners, we wear rags for gods sake. While we are living like the animals our dark relatives have forced us to become while the Dark line is thriving. They bring new contributions to the Wizarding world… Magnificent inventions such as Foe Glass and a hot new cleaning spell, Scourgify. They bear Wizards and Witches with ever-more powerful magic, while the fruits of our labor are hardly above squib. They're getting rich off of our misery, and though it pains me to write this, they won't even help their own family members! Their arrogance astounds even me._

_In times of hardship, someone must accept the blame. I'm the one who foolishly disowned some of our brightest minds from the line, and naively did not expect retribution. I'm the one who brought a personal dispute into the light and made it a family dispute. And quite a personal dispute it was…._

_Victavious, like so many other children of the Potter clan, was one of my many victims. However, unlike the other boys, he never allowed the countless encounters with me to break his spirit. Even so, I taught him what true helplessness was, as I did what I wanted with him without consequence. I simply fed off his innocence, taking it from him time after time. However, I think what I did made him even more determined, for he always had a goal and a plan to reach it, never letting me hinder him. I guess that's what really angered me about Victavious. He was somehow a better man than me, even when he was just a boy. But I knew just how to break him. I knew the only thing more important to him than his Potions was his family. So I presented him with an ultimatum, either become my life partner or be disowned for dabbling in the Dark. I misjudged which one he would pick and he got away… away from me, that is._

_In my own way, I do believe I loved Victavious, but it was one of those cruel sorts of love, the masochistic type where you hurt the one you love most for your own gratification. I don't know why I mention this now, but I feel my time is limited in this world and as a Potter of the Light, I want to clear my conscience, to let the record show what really happened. Though I certainly put him through misery in his youth, I always thought he'd come back to me…. When he didn't, I felt an emptiness welling up inside me… As you are certainly aware, I never truly got over his 'betrayal' in a sense. That or the fact that I was stupid enough to mistake a one-sided infatuation, a one-sided sexual desire, for real love. _

_The more I think about the events in my life leading up to the fateful split of the Potter clan, the more I'm inclined to believe it is my fault. The fact that we are now reduced to a beggar's fate is entirely my fault and happened during my reign. It's not a mistake, however. I will conjure up the Sanctify spell for the future of the line of Light in an attempt to reconcile in these final days of my empty existence. In essence, I am going to sacrifice myself for my family… unlike that insolent boy, Victavious…. He, being a Dark wizard, would most likely be happy to know of my choice in conjuring this spell because it is classified as a Dark Ritual. It will drain my life force in order to bestow a blessing upon its intended target—my family. The only downside is that it is unpredictable. It could bestow onto my family a mere days' worth of food, or riches of unbelievable proportions!_

_This is one death necessary for the Light Potters to live. Life is no longer of any use to me, anyway. I am slowly dying, and the best medi-wizards and medi-witches can do nothing to stop. I hope that in sacrificing myself selflessly I can regain some of the honor I have lost._

_--Acario Potter 1365_

With that, Charlus put down Acario's journal, disgust written all over his face. Acario Potter had single-handedly brought his family to ruin in one fell swoop. Acario was, quite simply, the worst Potter patriarch that was ever known, not mentioning the countless molestations of the Potter youth, Acario's own flesh and blood. These abused children had been traumatized by their experiences and had reduced magical powers as a result. It was most likely why so many of the Potter children were barely above squib level, not some type of karma from the Dark Potter line like Acario deliriously thought.

Charlus sat back, rubbing his temples in thought. _If there is no more mention of Acario after this journal entry, then he must have performed the ritual…. Judging by the success of our family today, what was my clan's blessing from the ritual? I know we inherited our wealth from Acario's son, Albion…. what could his gift have been? _

He had so many questions, but knew he had to clear his head first. Fresh air would be good. Charlus sighed and made his way out of the Gryffindor Common Room, heading down to the Quidditch field. Everyone else was down at Breakfast in the Great Hall so he knew the field to be empty of all other students and faculty. Stepping on to the field, it was indeed empty of every other soul. He fetched his Nimbus 1000 from the Broom shed and made his way onto the field.

Once Charlus was in the air, his problems just seemed to float away. He did a series of twists, turns, and somersaults in the air, indifferent to the small gathering of students that were watching him from the ground. Was that the star Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team for nothing. After about fifteen minutes of flying, he landed back on the pitch, preparing to take a break.

"Potter," came a voice from behind him.

Turning around, he saw Riddle standing behind him looking handsome yet snobby, arms crossed over his chest, a scowl pasted on his face.

"Riddle," Charlus returned coolly while cleaning his broom. He wasn't in the mood to initiate a conversation with this ass.

"Potter, I've been thinking about your proposition… I've decided the deal you proposed helps you more than it helps me, so let's raise the stakes. How about you become one of my followers in my club then I'll train you? Of course I'd have to test you first, I can't be caught training a magically inept idiot. How do you feel about this suggestion?"

Charlus looked at Riddle as he placed his broom back in the shed, thinking to himself. _Boy, I must be mental to consider spending the rest of my life bowing down to a half-blood… To be like Malfoy and the other pure-bloods, to pathetically lower my status in that way…But it's the only way I can learn._

"You know what, Riddle? I'll think about it," Charlus snapped, his tone positively arrogant. "I've got too much on my mind right now for negotiations." With that, he strode away quickly, leaving Riddle fuming on the Quidditch field.


	4. A Death In the Family

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

_-Excerpt From Albion Potter's Private Journal-_

_It was the most wonderful day of my life when late at night there came a knock on my door. The cry had gone out that my father, Acario Potter was dead .He was found just a little after midnight, dead on sight, in the middle of a dark runic circle. I laughed myself sick when I found out how he died. I find it irronicly halarious that my father died by the same arts he so despised._

_One might wonder why Acario Potter's son will not grieve his death. Well, I will write the reason I hat my father so in this diary, words never dared to speak out loud. My father molested me. No, more than molested me, he raped me. I was no more than six when he started, but I can remember all the late night visits. How he would whisper for me to be quiet so my mother wouldn't hear, and how he would touch me in places no father ever should. I do believe one of his most disturbing kinks was bondage. He loved to tie me down to the bed with ropes and masturbated to the sounds of me getting free. Then, he would rape me in the most painful way he could think of, which was usually without any lubricant._

_If you're reading this and you think he broke me then you're dead wrong. I created a way to protect my mind and magic from the brutal attacks of my father. I t involved creating mental barriers to lock all the memories behind. I never sorted through them, never dealt with the feelings of betrayal and pain that came along with them. I soon learned what a mistake that was during a particularly important dinner with the Malfoys of France. I had a panic attack when their son Julian just brushed against my shoulder. I remember screaming like a mad man, clawing at my own face, and I do believe I passed out from lack of oxygen after I forgot how to breathe._

_My father was furious at me, and for weeks, even months ignored me to the point where he even had a son. He had long since turned his attention to some other boy named Victavious, which suited me just fine. I was occupied with dealing with my feelings from the memories, and trying to move pass my mother's death (we were not that close)._

_By the time was eleven years old I had perfected the process of storing my memories and I'd come to terms with my father's rape and molestation of me._

_I even started to write that taught others to do the same. I called the process Occulemency, the art of protecting yourself from your own mind. I never told anyone about the book, as I didn't want to get it published that early. This was all before I entered Hogwarts mind you!_

_Again, I'll write that I have never told anyone what I'm writing right now. So when they asked me how my father should be buried promptly told them that he was to be buried without the readings of the burial rights and blessings of the next life, and in exile, away from the family grave yard in a hidden location, the biggest dishonor that can be done to a dead person. When they asked why my father was to be dishonored even his death, I remember the exact words I scornfully replied with._

_"Look around you what exactly has my father done to deserve honor? He has in his time of reign brought the Potter's to financial ruin, reduced us to poverty, and not to mention the fact that he raped and molested most of your sons and daughters! Does that sound like a man deserving of honor to you?"_

_They wisely never mentioned burial plans to my father around me again._

_My father's death had not yet been pronounced as the truth when my first book on Occulemency, was the published. It was called,"Occulemency, the Art of Protecting Your Mind." This is going to help build the Potters vaults back up if sales took off. Instead of just taking money from the Potter vault I'm giving something back. In that way I'm already better than my father._

_Life is a curse. Sleep is the remission. Death is the cure._

_Always take care of your family, mud blood, and half-blood or pure blood, that's all Potter blood._

_If you remember no other words from this journal remember this:_

_Wisdom is knowing what to do next virtue is doing it_

_Anybody can say they tried, few can say they tried until they succeeded._

_-Albion Potter 1365_

Charlus was confused and frustrated. He had been looking for reference of the blessing that Acario gave his life for, but so far had no luck. He wasn't even supposed to have these books. They were journals hidden deep in the Potter mansions old library under the mansion. They were records of the Potter's dirty history that none of the light Potters wanted to be reminded of. But yet he still had another problem.

He didn't know what to do with his life. It was his seventh year in school and he had yet to decide which road in life he would take. Unlike his simple-minded friend Septimus, a career was the last thing on his mind. He was to busy trying to decide what kind of wizard he was to become. For help his decision he turned to his ancestors, well really cataloged journals of his ancestor's thoughts, feelings, and events of history.

So far his ancestors were no help at all. All they talked about in their journals was their lives and skeletons in the closet of the Potter family. Albion Potter was the only one who really had any advice, and good advice it was. But it doesn't help him decide what he wants to do with his life.

One thing was for sure, though, the light side wasn't as pure as people were lead to believe. After reading about his great grandfather many times over that sexually abused his own son, not mention everyone else's children from the Potter clan he knew the light side had their faults like everyone else.

He sighed and packed his things away in his trunk. It was time for breakfast, and Septimus was known to break into a room without warning when it came to food. He packed Albion's journal for future reference, and made his way out of his room. It seemed like he was later than he'd thought. No one was n the Common Room or the corridors, and Septimus, wasn't running up to him moaning about food. He quickened his pace to get to the Great Hall sooner. Reaching the double doors he pulled them open.

When he walked inside the Great Hall everyone froze. They all looked at him with pitying eyes, trying to convey some type of sympathy with their gazes, most wouldn't even meet his eyes. Walking to the Grryfindor table he took his usual seat in front of Septimus, and began to pile food on his plate, until someone grasped his forearm in a tight grip.

Looking up from his plate he saw it was Septimus, watching him with an intense look on his face," What's up mate?" He asked him curiously. Septimus's only answer was to shake his head and hold out the Daily Prophet. The headline read,"Grindelwald Attacks Potter Manor." All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears, and people rushing to catch him before his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

End Chapter

Next Chapter:A Bullet Dodged


	5. Author's Note

**Author's Note: I really hate to do this but I'm not going to write another chapter until I get a beta. It's come o my attention that my grammar and dialogue is just horrible, and I only want to provide the best for my readers. So if you want to become my beta and correct my grammar and dialogue then please send me a PM or put it in a review. I'm sorry for any inconvenience and thanks for the support from those of you who like my story.**

**Midnight Writer Shadrach**


	6. First Bullet Dodged

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to update, but I had to find myself a beta, and I did find one. Amymimi has agreed to beta for me so my writing should have fewer errors and be easier for everyone to read now. Anyway, here's chapter 6 of 'Une famile dans l'ombre'.

-Midnight Writer Shadrach

Charlus woke up to something persistent poking him in his side. At first he tried to ignore it in favor of wallowing in self-pity, but the persistent nudging of something sharp into his side made him sit up. He looked up straight into the face of his familiar Abbadon.

Abbadon was a Clabbert, an arboreal creature that resembled a cross between a monkey and frog. He had smooth, green skin, short horns and a wide grinning mouth that revealed sharp pointy teeth. His long arms and webbed hands and feet allowed him to move gracefully through the trees. A large pustule sat in the center of his forehead, flashing red when he sensed the approach of danger, including muggles.

'Hi, buddy… What are you doing here?" Charlus asked the creature softly, sorrow coloring his voice.

Abbadon moved closer until he was nuzzling his master.

'_Did you really not expect me to find you, Master? I sensed your distress,' _the Clabbert asked through its mental bond to Charlus, all the while purring soothingly.

"My parents are dead, Abbadon… I never even thought it possible that they _could_ die! They were supposed to be invincible!" he told his companion, on the verge of hysterics.

'_No one is invincible, Charlus. You know that. All the same, I am sorry about your parents, little one,' _the Clabbert replied wisely, being sure to make his mental voice soft instead of scolding.

"I am sorry too, but I'm glad you're here, Abbadon… I really missed you," he confided shyly in his friend.

'_And I you, my little one, but it doesn't matter, we are together now," _Abbadon replied soothingly, a purr rumbling deeply in his chest as he ran webbed fingers through his little one's hair.

They heard tense whispers and footsteps as someone entered through the Hospital Wings door. It was Professor Dumbledore and Madam Rosalie, the official healer of Hogwarts.

"Please, Margarete; just let me have a moment to explain the situation to Mr. Potter, then _you_may take control of the situation," Dumbledore whispered to his companion, flashing her a charming smile and then planting a kiss upon her hand. All the while, Charlus listened intently to their conversation.

"Fine, but be quick… I don't want a relapse of Mr. Potter's performance in the Great Hall, Albus," Madam Rosalie said quickly, trying to hide her blush in vain, and hurrying from the room.

Noticing that Charlus had been listening to his conversation, Dumbledore turned to him with a smile on his face.

"Hello, my boy. How are you feeling?" Dumbledore asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

"I'm fine, Professor Dumbledore," Charlus snapped back. "Why, was there something you wanted?" He hadn't meant to come across so rudely to the headmaster, but he could care less at this point. His parents had just been killed and that was all that mattered to him right now.

"I was going to discuss your parents' last wishes with you," the Professor muttered, "but first… why is that creature sitting on your bed? I'm certain that your parents told you to get rid of it."

Abbadon growled softly at being referred with such disdain, as _that creature_, and sensing his annoyance, Charlus caressed his smooth skin softly to calm him.

"Abbadon is not a thing!" Charlus replied in a rage, raising his voice. "He is my friend, my companion, and my familiar until the day I die. I cannot just _get rid_ of him as you and my late parents, God rest their souls, so _eloquently_suggested." Charlus petted Abbadon protectively, eyebrow cocked with annoyance as he continued. "And as for you telling me my parents' last wishes… isn't that usually left to a Gringotts official to do?"

Dumbledore stiffened almost unnoticeably. "Whether or not you wish to know… I must inform you that it was your parents' desire that you not have a familiar," he said sternly, weariness in his tone. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to turn the Clabbert over to the Ministry of Magic." The headmaster's blunt statement brooked no room for arguments, leaving Charlus speechless.

Abbadon looked absolutely murderous now. His skin bristled, as he bared his fangs, his normally black eyes flashing red furiously. The pustule on his forehead was flashing a dangerous blood red.

Suddenly Charlus spoke, his voice soft and ominous. "I really didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice. I will be going to the Ministry of Magic and putting in the papers for emancipation, and I will be filing the appropriate papers that will declare Abbadon as my familiar, and make it illegal to try and remove him from me."

Dumbledore's subsequent glare at the boy could have frozen hell over.

"Is that your final answer? It _was_your parents' wish, after all," Dumbledore asked coldly.

"To bloody hell with my parents' wish! They're not here any more, are they? Abbadon is my friend and he's not going anywhere without me right behind him," Charlus snapped back just as coldly. "He's the only friend I have in the world right now Professor, why would you want to take that away from me?" Charlus asked brokenly.

Dumbledore's composure visibly faltered, before nodded tersely and swept out of the room furiously, his robes bellowing behind him impressively.

"Looks like we've dodged the first bullet, buddy," Charlus said soothingly to his familiar. "Now we just have to sit back and wait for whatever else they try to throw at us." Charlus smiled gently at his green companion, who was once again calm, as Dumbledore had since left the room.

_I don't mind a challenge as long as I'm with you, my friend. I only wish that you never side with that prejudiced, bigoted, lying, hypocritical, old fool who just left this room. If you do I can't promise I'll stay with you,' _Abbadon's voice said dryly in Charlus's mind.

"You have nothing to worry about Abbadon, Charlus whispered to his familiar.

"_Your reassurance is important, but we will have to take action little one." _Abbadon said with a lazy grin**. **

" Don't worry we will, we will," Charlus said softly, eyes glinting with a newfound determination. '_After all, it's what my parents would have wanted, for me to be happy and learn how to make my own choices.' _He thought before drifting back off to sleep, dreaming of his dearly departed parents.

End Chapter

Next Chapter: A Time Of Decisions


	7. Author's Note 2

**Author's Note: There is a poll on my profile that you can vote on to decide if Harry sholud be dark, neutral, or light when he enters the story. Check it out.**


	8. Decisions that Change the Future

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Charlus once again woke from his nap, this time with Abaddon snuggled up to him. He smiled softly at his friend, jubilant that he had kept his promise and stayed with him.

"I'm happy to see you're okay, Charlus," a soft voice said from beside him.

He froze instantly, recognizing the voice.

"So happy you could finally come and see me, Dorea," he grumbled, genuine hurt in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Charlus… They wouldn't let me see you until you were stabilized. You know that if there was a way I could have seen you earlier, I would have… but I couldn't. I have classes and homework, as well as meetings with Lord Voldemort," she snapped irritably. "I can't just drop everything for you all the time, Charlus!"

Charlus badly wanted to turn to face her but he didn't. He knew from experience that she looked beautiful when she was angry. Violet eyes, blazing raven colored hair flying around her. He had to resist the urge to see this unabashed beauty. He didn't want to see the hurt written in those expressive eyes of hers, nor did he want her to see the hurt reflected in his own eyes.

"I care about you and _you know I _would have been here for you! I love you, Dorea," he muttered, his words tinged with anger, "but if we are going to make this work, you have to think more about my feelings instead of just your own." He flinched after ending his diatribe, knowing he'd just walked right into a minefield with his own words. Predictably, she replied.

"So you're saying I don't care about you, that I don't consider what you need and how you feel? What about how _I_feel? When Lord Voldemort threatened me right in front of you, you didn't do anything! You didn't even so much as _flinch_ to show you felt guilty for getting me in trouble!" she raged, volume steadily increasing as she spoke. "Not to _mention_your ungratefulness towards me for taking that risk for you, and then not even trying to catch my eye to reassure me after Lord Voldemort addressed me! At this point I'm not even sure we should be together anymore!"

Charlus didn't have to look at Dorea to know she was crying. Turning to her, he pulled her into a rough hug.

"You know I love you," he mumbled into her shoulder. "I'm sorry for hurting your feelings. It's just that… I felt so guilty that I got you in trouble. I couldn't look at you, standing there in your robe; I thought you would hate me," he explained, voice thick. "I couldn't even talk to you because of how guilty I felt. I was sure that Riddle had forbidden you from talking to me, and I didn't want you to get hurt because of me again. But that doesn't mean I don't love you! God, I want you to be my wife one day!"

Her tears slowly stopped falling, and she clung on tighter to his robes.

"I could never hate you, my darling," she replied, sniffling occasionally into the fabric of his robe. "Besides, I _want_ you to be my husband, even if we are only seventeen."

Charlus said nothing, but kissed her forehead, followed by each cheek.

'_Well done, Charlus, well done,' _he heard Abbadon's voice say in his mind. However, when he looked over at him, the Clabbert was still sound asleep.

"I hate to interrupt this heartwarming reunion, but your time is up, Dorea," a cold voice drawled. "We agreed on fifteen minutes. It's been thirty."

Charlus looked up to see Tom Riddle standing in the Hospital Wing doorway. Dorea was shivering like a frightened rabbit in his arms, but she stood anyway.

"M-my L-lord, I apologize for l-losing track of time. It won't happen again," she stuttered, slipping into a practiced curtsy before leaving the room, but not before shooting Charlus a watery smile.

"What do you want, Riddle? I'm done playing your games," Charlus said coolly, sitting back on his bed.

"There is no game, young Charlus; only a revolution," Riddle replied silkily. "Are you sure you don't want to be a part of it?"

"I want to be a part of something big, something that's going to change the world… Not a group that is playing 'who is going to be the next Dark Lord,'" he said somberly, reaching the root of his indecision.

"Do you not believe a Dark Lord can change the world?" Riddle said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, but—"

"Then you'll be at the next Deatheater meeting in the Room of Requirements? I want to test your skills and see if you're _worthy_ of becoming my apprentice. Won't you accept the challenge?" Riddle asked, not missing a beat.

"That depends," Charlus replied. "Are you bringing change to the Wizarding World by politics or force?"

"A little of both actually," Riddle answered in a deadpan. "Depends on how I'm feeling by the time I reach forty."

"Then I'm in… on one condition, though," Charlus said with a feral grin.

"What," Riddle asked in an annoyed tone.

"Don't punish Dorea," Charlus replied. "I don't want one hair on her head out of place, or I'm not going to join nor fund your cause."

Riddle scoffed, but shrugged elegantly.

"As you wish. Besides… I wasn't going to punish her anyway. I got what I wanted," he said with a superior smirk, before exiting the room.

"Why do I feel like I've just been swindled?" Charlus groaned, falling back onto his bed.


	9. The Next Generation

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**The Next Generation**

Charlus made his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. It was almost time for his parent's funeral and he had yet to change his clothes. Everything had been going great the last week. Lord Voldemort had given him a test to prove that he could sense Dark Magic. All he'd had to do was pick out which of his followers had natural Light magic and which of them had natural Dark magic. Quite a tiring task, since over half of Voldemort's followers had more Dark magic than Light magic.

Once Voldemort had been satisfied with the results of his test, he and Charlus had discussed a compromise to their original plan. Lord Voldemort would train him in the Dark arts and groom him to become his right-hand man, and in return, Charlus would use his Dark gift to help Voldemort recruit more followers and help fund the cause. Being the sole heir of the Potter line Charlus had inherited the whole Potter vault and their numerous estates. After he'd tested his dueling capabilities, Voldemort was sure that by the time he was done training Charlus, he'd be the perfect right-hand man. The proposed training was beneficial for both of them.

Charlus pushed open his room door. Nothing had changed since he'd been in the Hospital Wing for three days. His bed was still unmade, his books still scattered all over the floor, and his trunk still locked up securely. He breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't have wanted anyone to snoop around in his things and find out some pretty embarrassing facts about his family. He wouldn't put it past that old fool Dumbledore to try and meddle in his affairs and justify it with some lame ass excuse like he was _concerned_. Yes, he was concerned, all right. About where the Potter's vast fortunes they'd left behind had gone.

Sighing, Charlus stepped into the bathroom and stripped his clothing off. He'd been in the same school robes for three days because nobody had bothered to change him and now he felt positively gross. Flexing his muscles, he stepped into the shower, which was charmed to turn on automatically and was warmed to the perfect temperature. He sighed in pure bliss. It felt so good to be able to take a simple shower after being held up in the Hospital Wing. He grabbed his soap and went to work on his body, being especially ruthless on the parts of his body that could emit an odor. Then he shampooed his hair. Like most Purebloods who believed in the old ways, he kept his hair long. Not too long, just to his shoulder blades.

He stepped out of the shower, content with his state of cleanliness. He wrapped a towel around his waist and turned to the mirror, smiling at the image that looked back at him. He was a solid six feet with naturally pale but healthy-looking skin. His body was lean and lightly muscled but not overly so. His hair was a dark auburn color that fell to his shoulder in silky waves and his eyes were a chestnut brown. He'd once had trouble with his hair. It had been wild and uncontrollable before he had subscribed to a special hair cream made in France. Then it had become tamable. Most men would be ashamed at checking out their own appearance, but not him.

Charlus walked back in his room wearing nothing but his towel to find his fellow Gryffindor Septimus sitting on his bed. He froze in shock, looking like a deer caught in the headlights before he quickly cleared his face of all emotions. Lord Voldemort would have approved of this immediate return to calmness.

"What are you doing here, Septimus? I _do_ have a funeral to get ready for, you know," he quipped, a slight edge to his voice.

"Where were you, mate?" Septimus asked, eyes narrowed. "Madam Rosalie said you'd been released yesterday, but you never came back to Gryffindor Tower."

"I _did_ leave the infirmary but I began to feel ill again so I headed back," Charlus coolly lied. "Not that it's any concern of yours where I go. You don't own me."

Septimus face reddened, all the way to the roots of his gaudy colored orange hair, but he didn't say anything.

The truth was that Charlus had been with Lord Voldemort and his deatheaters in a meeting the whole night. He had gone straight to the Room Of Requirements as soon as he'd gotten the clearance from Madam Rosalie to leave the infirmary.

With Septimus regarding him quietly, Charlus walked up to his trunk and unlocked it. He pulled out a silk-wrapped parcel and studied it, in favor of ignoring Septimus. The parcel was actually the Potter family robe for attending funerals. It was written that the burial rights of the deceased Potters were to be read by the next Patriarch of the Potter family wearing this very robe. Centuries of Potters had worn this same robe. It was quite an honor, actually.

The robe, fashioned of the purest black silk, was trimmed in gold. There was a Golden Snidget on the back, multi-colored feathers shimmering when they captured the light. The Snidget was intertwined with an Elder tree's branches that captivated the little bird so it couldn't break free. The look of defeat in the little bird's ruby red eyes pulled at Charlus's heartstrings every time he laid eyes upon the worn garment.

"Hey, what's this, Charlus?" Septimus asked obnoxiously, grabbing the funeral robe from Charlus's hands and waving it around in the air.

"Careful, Septimus! You're going to ruin my robe!" Charlus snapped. "It's sacred and has been in my family for generations!" With that he snatched his robe back and held it protectively against his body.

"Since when do _you_ care about traditions, Charlus?" Septimus huffed. "You used to always say they were stupid! Besides… it's just a robe."

Charlus saw red. First Septimus saw fit to come in his room and question him as if he was his father, then he disrespected his family robe, and now his family traditions?!

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Charlus raged, teeth bared threateningly. "How _dare_ you come in here disrespecting my privacy, family, traditions, and my family's _funeral _robe! I don't have to explain anything to you! Can't a man change his mind about what he thinks, especially seeing as my _parents_ just died and I wish to respect the family tradition, if only for their sakes?!" He lowered his voice, shaking his head disapprovingly as he continued. "Ah, but how could I expect a blood-traitor, a Mud-Blood loving prat like you to understand? We both know the only reason you hate the Old Ways is because your family can't afford to follow them."

Septimus's face flushed a hideous shade of red. He looked like he was going to burst into flames any minute. Charlus couldn't help a small amount of vindictive pleasure he felt at getting the boy so worked up so quickly.

"What are you saying, Charlus?" Septimus ground out furiously between clenched teeth.

"What I'm trying to say," Charlus began, "is maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore."

Avoiding eye contact with his one-time friend, Charlus began to change into his robes, never one to consider modesty a virtue. Besides, he wanted Septimus to get uncomfortable and leave his room as soon as was physically possible.

"So you'd rather hang around with berks like Prince, Malfoy, and Nott, I take it?" Septimus questioned harshly. "People who don't give a damn about you… just so you have a good reputation in their circles? You're a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake!"

"Phoebus Prince, Abraxus Malfoy, and Theodore Nott are not berks or any other kind of jerks!" Charlus exclaimed. Remembering Voldemort, he immediately returned to coolness. "Okay, Malfoy is a little intense, but he has a brilliant mind. Phoebus may not be what you consider to be nice, but he is dependable and always keeps his word, and Theodore might be the most suspicious person I've ever met, but he's also the most cunning!" Suddenly Charlus froze, narrowing his eyes at Septimus. "Wait—why am I explaining this to _you_, of all people!? And I'm not going even going to try to understand what you're insinuating about my being a Gryffindor!"

"Fine!" Septimus thundered. "If that's the way you feel about those scheming jerks, maybe we shouldn't be friends!"

"Didn't you get the memo? We never really were," Charlus whispered harshly, before leaving the room.

Walking out of his open door, Charlus didn't even bother looking back. He was sure that he was doing the right thing. Straightening his shoulders, now more determined than ever, he walked out of the Gryffindor Common Room and into his future.

Abaddon appeared behind him from the shadows as he strode along the corridor. _' And so it begins, Charlus,' _he spoke through their mental link.

"Yes, my friend. So it does," Charlus confirmed with an affectionate pat on his familiar's head.

"Charlus, are you ready for the funeral?" came a soft feminine voice.

Charlus turned to see Dorea dressed in the Black family's ceremonial robe. Abbadon faded away as Charlus' attention focused on his true love. Dorea's robe was black with silver trim and a black grim on the back. She looked beautiful with her black hair wound into an intricate twist with diamond ornaments holding it together, her violet eyes sparkling beautifully.

"Yes, I'm ready for the funeral. I'm not so sure that I'm ready to say goodbye to my parents, though," Charlus said with a sigh. "It seems like our time together was cut short for no reason."

Looking into Dorea's sympathetic violet eyes, he tried to lighten the mood.

"On a lighter note… after the funeral I'm heading down to Gringotts to sign the emancipation papers so stupid Dumbledore can't take Abaddon away from me. I hate to disobey my parents' final wishes, but surely they'd respect me making my own decisions. After all, many of my family members made much worse choices… affecting generations of Potters. I can't feel too badly for simply wanting to keep my faithful familiar."

"I understand," she replied. "I wish I had a familiar too, actually."

"So, care to join me for when I go to Gringotts?" Charlus asked, smiling charmingly, if not a bit weakly.

"You didn't even have to ask, Charlus!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

Tltltltltltltltltltltltl

_15 years later_

"Push, Dorea! You're almost there!" Charlus Potter urged his wife. She was lying on the hospital bed, legs wide open as she gave birth. Sweat drenched her clothes and body as she squeezed his hand painfully tight, her face scrunched up with the effort of pushing.

"I _am _pushing, Charlus!" Dorea yowled, veins popping out of her forehead like some sort of demon. "Why don't _you_ try giving birth for ten hours straight and see how you like it!"

Charlus had to fight back a wince. He'd known this wouldn't bee the easiest birth for his wife. She was small and petite, barely 5'4". She was also very delicate-looking, with her soft pale skin and beautiful features. In truth, she'd never done any real work in her life. Even now her job was to host tea parties in their home with other pure-blood wives and come up with ways that they could contribute to Lord Voldemort's cause. Charlus himself was a Diplomat for relations between Magical Creatures and the Wizarding World. But really he digressed.

This should have been a relatively easy birth considering they were both 32 years old, in their prime for reproducing. Even if she was too petite for an easy birth, it shouldn't have taken ten, going on eleven hours, to birth a baby! Hell, she'd passed out two times during the birth and had to be revived by healers.

"What the hell is going on? The baby should have been out by now!" Charlus roared at the nearby Healer. "What is going on?"

The young Healer was shaking in fear at Charlus' cold tone of voice.

"L-lord P-potter, s-sir, the L-lady P-potter is suffering from a breech birth," she replied, stammering uncontrollably. "T-that is when, instead of the baby coming out headfirst, it comes out feet-first. I-I called for assistance hours ago, but no one has responded. At this point, your baby will be dead before we can deliver it."

Charlus saw red. With a roar of rage he seized the Healer by her neck.

"You're telling me that all this time you've been _waiting_ for Healers who didn't respond?! Why aren't you doing anything but standing there? You are a waste of life!" he roared, spittle flying. "I am holding _you_ responsible if my unborn child dies!"

He shoved the visibly scared woman towards the door, where she landed in a rumpled pile of robes.

"Get out! And tell the rest of your blood-traitor and Mud-Blood colleagues not to interfere," he whispered harshly.

The woman nodded, fleeing the room in tears.

Charlus hurried back to his wife, holding her close as she cried.

"Dorea, I'll be frank with you," he whispered earnestly. "The Healer says our child is positioned feet-first and will die unless we do something. Now I want to try something, but it will only work if you trust me and if you can bear a little more pain. Do you trust me, Dorea?"

"With my life," she whispered tearfully.

Charlus nodded, kissing his wife on the forehead. Quickly he scrambled off of the hospital bed and kneeled between her legs. He grimaced, seeing that she was already covered in blood. One foot was already sticking out, but the other looked to be lodged in the canal. Resisting the urge to vomit, Charlus raised his wand.

"_Sectmico_." Charlus dragged his wand down in a cutting motion, and Dorea screamed in pain. He had chosen a spell of Dark Magic, one normally forbidden by witches and wizards of the light, for its gruesome effect on the flesh. Writhing on the bed, she twisted and squirmed in utter pain. But Charlus held her down firmly with a hand on her abdomen, not allowing her to move. The spell had been cast.

With the _Sectimo_ spell, he'd sliced the birth canal open wider to accommodate the baby's legs. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he continued.

Wedging his wand gently between the baby's leg and the birth canal, he whispered, "_Genbio_." The tip of his wand glowed green for a moment before subsiding. He sighed in relief that it had worked and withdrew his wand. Genbio was a Dark spell that was used to heal the side effects of _Sectimo _that might occur if used on a pregnant woman, for it was easier for them to bleed to death after being sliced.

"Okay Dorea… Try pushing now," he said gently. "It should be easier now that I've widened the birth canal. I'll be between your legs, ready to receive the baby."

She nodded tiredly, her skin gray with exhaustion.

Charlus kneeled once again, and she pushed. Another leg popped out of the birth canal easily. Charlus grasped the legs gently, and tugged as she pushed. The baby slid out a little bit more, revealing that the baby was a boy. Charlus felt his heart leap. He had a son! The baby continued sliding out easily after that, revealing his buttocks, stomach, arms, and then finally his head. However, upon inspection, Charlus found that the baby's face was blue, body unmoving. Eyes wide and frightened, he rocked the boy in his arms, tickling the chest that had not yet risen or fell in a breathing motion. Charlus felt the bile rise in his throat. Oh, Merlin! His baby boy, his son, was stillborn—

Suddenly, a low growl came from the corner of the room. Charlus jerked his head to see that his familiar had appeared.

_Abbadon_, Charlus said through their mental connection, lest Dorea hear, _something is wrong with my son_.

Abbadon approached the bed cautiously, peering up at the blue-tinged infant.

_Let me see him_, Abbadon said to Charlus. _Place the child on the ground so that I may look at him. _The pustule on Abbadon's head looked red-hot.

Charlus' eyes narrowed as he involuntarily clutched his lifeless child closer to his body.

"Why?" he hissed in a whisper.

_I may be able to help him_, Abbadon replied. _You must trust me, little one_.

_I'm not your little one_, Charlus replied. _This child here is, and yet… and yet he is dead—_

_Nonsense!_ Abbadon raged, leaping up and snatching the child from Charlus's hands.

Charlus stood in utter madness as Abbadon set the lifeless body on the ground, placing his head close to the child's blue face. The pustule emitted a red glow on the child's face as Charlus's familiar concentrated.

_Is he going to hurt my son?_ Charlus mused. _If he does, then maybe what my parents told me was right, that I _should_ have had him taken away. Oh, Merlin, what if my family was right all along?_

"Charlus, what's going on? What happened?" Dorea said, her voice strained with worry. She attempted to sit up, seeing a shocking scene—Charlus's familiar Abbadon placing its face on the face of an unmoving infant.

"What's it doing, Charlus?" she shrieked. "Where's my baby?"

"I don't know, Dorea," he replied. "But he said he might be able to hel—"

"If he hurts that baby, I don't know what I'll—"

"Shhh," Charlus said soothingly to his wife, watching his familiar intently. The red glow had ceased. Abbadon stepped away from the infant. The boy was now a shade of pink. Charlus squatted down, scooping the child into his arms. His son squealed loudly, arms and legs thrashing. His son was alive.

_Mom, Dad_, Charlus mused, peering upwards with half a smile on his face. _You were wrong about Abbadon_.

Now smiling unabashedly, Charlus cut the umbilical cord and cleaned his son off. Then he wrapped him in one of the blankets that was provided for him, all the while admiring his appearance. His son's hair was a dark brown, and his skin bright red at the moment, but he seemed to be the perfect weight. He had ten fingers and ten toes, a nose, a mouth, two ears, and two eyes that were closed. He breathed in an even pattern, showing no struggle. Charlus felt his heart soar with pride. His son was perfect. But his happiness was short lived when Dorea cried out in pain.

"Charlus, something is wrong!" she yelled, her voice full of apprehension.

Charlus quickly sat his baby boy aside in a crib provided for them and rushed to his wife's side.

Looking between his wife's legs, he saw the top of a baby's head. He jumped back and stopped for a moment, feeling pure elation.

"You're having twins, Dorea!" he shouted, his joy obvious in his voice.

Dorea didn't respond but screamed in pain as she pushed again. The baby popped out to its shoulders. Another push revealed the rest of the body, revealing the baby to be a girl! He was the proud father of twins, a boy and a girl! The girl immediately screamed, her lungs healthy and strong.

"I want to see my children, Charlus," Dorea whispered faintly, on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.

"Of course, dear. Just give me a moment to clean off our daughter," he responded gently.

He cut his baby girl's umbilical cord and cleaned off the blood. She was perfect, just like her brother. But she had black hair like her mother, and her eyes were open and violet like her mother's too. He wrapped her in a pink blanket. Carrying her in one arm and her brother in the other, he presented them to Dorea.

"By the goddess, our children are perfect," she gasped, tears filling her eyes.

Taking them in her arms, she sighed contently. Charlus climbed into the bed with them, holding his family close against him.

"They're beautiful, just like you," he whispered, kissing her forehead.

"What should we name them?" Dorea said, smiling tiredly.

_Mom, Dad, you may have been wrong, but through your final wish for me, you made my will to keep Abaddon even stronger than it would have been otherwise,_ Charlus mused, looking at his wife and children._ Had it not been for you, my familiar may have slowly faded from existence over the years. I would have had no real conviction in keeping him, but your ill-timed wish to have him taken from me had the opposite effect. Wow. You both knew what I was going to do all along! _

"How about James Charlus Potter, after my father," Charlus suggested softly. _ I know you two are looking after me—and surely, you want the best for me,_ he thought._ You just had an odd way of going about it._

"That's perfect, dear. Your father was a great man," Dorea replied, smiling softly at him.

"Our daughter will be named Antila Dorea Potter," Dorea said firmly.

"Like the constellation? Why would we name her that?" Charlus asked, face screwed up in distaste.

"What are you trying to say? My family has always used stars and constellations to name our children There's nothing wrong with the name." Dorea replied, nose in the air.

"Well if you ask me it's—" Charlus's train of thought faltered upon being pinned with Dorea's harsh stare.

"It's _what_," she prompted, her voice dangerous.

"It's wonderful, dear, a perfect name for our little girl," he said, smiling charmingly.

Dorea merely rolled her eyes at him, and started to breastfeed their children. Charlus watched his family with a fond smile on his face. In the back of his mind he made a mental note that Lord Voldemort would need to be informed of his wife's successful birth of twins. But right now he was content to be with his family.

"You saved the life of my son, Abbadon," Charlus said, regarding his familiar, who was sitting nearby. "Watch over my family, will you? I'm so tired." And with that he drifted into a calming sleep.

Unseen by Charlus, Abaddon nodded firmly, perching on the bed railing so he could keep watch. He had served his purpose to Charlus, and now had two new little ones to guard and protect.

~ Fin~


	10. Author's Note 3

**Author's Note: Okay, so I have a new poll set up on my home page. I need you guys to check it out and tell me what you think. It's really important and would be greatly appreciated. This poll is pertaining to the future of this story, but don't worry, I'm not ending it any time soon. Anyway check it out. -Midnight Writer Shadrach  
**


	11. Bumbling Ministers and Life Debts

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**April 27, 1960**

**Ministry Of Magic Ballroom**

**6:15 PM **

"Welcome one and all to the Ministry of Magic's annual Spring Ball! It pleases me to see so many new faces in the crowd this evening," Minister Patrick Ackat proclaimed. "I bid you all welcome, and wish you a grand time on this very wonderful night!"

Minister Ackat was standing at the podium of the Ministry of Magic ballroom. Everyone who was anyone had gotten an invitation to the Ministry of Magic's annual Spring Ball. It was the social event of the season. Minister Ackat had made sure that all of his main supporters were there, from the richest Light Purebloods to the lowliest of muggle-borns.

Everyone cheered—well, the Dark and Neutral purebloods clapped politely with noticeably less enthusiasm. This caused Minister Ackat to frown. He knew the Dark and Neutral Purebloods didn't hold him in the best regards, but really such blatant disrespect would not do.

He spotted Charlus Potter among the Dark and Neutral Purebloods that had hung back from the crowd that had gathered for his speech. He was standing with his wife Dorea and their two children. This caused him to frown even more in displeasure. He couldn't stand any of the Dark Purebloods, hell he could barely tolerate the Neutral Purebloods, but he especially hated the Potters.

Ever since James Potter, Charlus Potter's late father, had _stolen _Roselyn Potter née Rosier from him, he had been embittered towards the Potters. As for Charlus's wife Dorea—well she was formerly a Black; enough said.

Minister Ackat plastered a fake smile on his face, waving to the key figures in the crowd who happened to be, wouldn't you know it, Purebloods. Most didn't react to his direct greeting, choosing to stay stony faced and turning to Charlus Potter for instructions. It was clear that he was the leader amongst the Dark and Neutral Purebloods. Potter turned to look the minister straight in his eyes, smiling that infuriatingly crooked grin—the same grin of the late James Potter—and nodded. Minister Ackat nodded tightly in response, turning away quickly. He really couldn't stand the Potters.

"Minister, may I suggest that you meet and greet the Purebloods and try to make nice?" Nobby Leach, the Minister's personal secretary whispered to him. "The election is coming up in two years and it _would_ be good to have all purebloods on your side."

"I have the Light Purebloods, half-bloods, and muggle-borns already," the minister replied stiffly with an air of petulance. "I don't need the neutral families or Dark Purebloods on my side. They're in league with You-Know-Who anyway."

Nobby Leach had to fight not to roll his eyes. Minister Ackat was such a prejudiced idiot! Nobby Leach himself was from a Dark Pureblood family. He'd taken up this position in hopes that he could influence the Minister and become the _next_ Minster of Magic himself. Helping his fellow Purebloods take back control of the Ministry was just an added bonus.

"Minister, I'm sure you've noticed that the Dark and Neutral Purebloods have more influence and power in the Ministry than any _Light_ Pureblood, mud-muggle-born, or half-blood could ever hope to have. It is _always _they who decide who goes into office. The fact that someone so prejudiced as yourself made it into office was a mere fluke," he remarked, pausing to fight back a sneer. "It's a new day and era, Minister, with a new Dark Lord and followers. It's up to you to decide if you want to rule it."

Leach then walked off with a satisfied smirk on his face. He always knew just what to say to influence the Minister's decisions. Everything was going according to the plan. He would purposely set the Minister up for failure in a meeting with the Dark and Neutral Purebloods, and sit back and watch him fall flat on his ass. Then he would _miraculously _swoop in and introduce himself, making a deal with the Purebloods, but most importantly, with Charlus Potter, the Dark Lord's right-hand man.

Tltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltl

**April 27, 1960**

**Ministry of Magic Dining Room**

**8:45 PM **

Charlus Potter stood in the middle of a circle of Pureblood supporters of the Dark Lord Voldemort. They had all gathered at the prospect of hearing Charlus Potter, the Dark Lord's right hand man, speak.

"I would like to propose a toast to the new lives being born into _our_ respective families, to the continuous growth of our wealth, and to the victory of The Dark Lord as he continues to fight for a change in the Wizarding World!" Charlus shouted, waving his champagne glass around in the air.

Charlus was suddenly very glad that he'd had the foresight to throw up a very powerful silencing charm around their area as the Purebloods broke into very loud cheers, roaring their approval at his speech. Sure it was risky giving a speech to Lord Voldemort supporters in the middle of a Ministry ball, but Charlus Potter was a former Gryffindor, and lived and breathed on risks. No one really thought much of their gathering anyway. They always passed it off as being a gathering of Dark and Neutral purebloods that thought they were too important to mingle with the _lesser_ people.

As the crowd parted once again, Charlus made his way back to his family. Dorea was sitting at their table holding James and Antila in each of her arms. She looked beautiful in a dark purple silk dress that brought out her eyes and accentuated her figure. Her hair was pulled into a French twist and held by sparkling ornaments. He could see many women eyeing her enviously as he approached, taking Antila from her arms.

"What did I miss?" he murmured into her ear, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"Nothing much… Just Minister Ackat making an ass out of himself, as usual," she replied with a wry smile as she rocked James side to side in her arms.

James, now one month old, looked very cute. His brown hair was as unruly as ever and he'd finally opened his eyes. They were a dark brown, darker than Charlus's own but still pretty, albeit a bit common. He wore a black dress robe that was somewhat reminiscent of a muggle tuxedo. On his wrist was a silver bracelet that kept accidental magic in check, having more than one hundred protection charms on it. There was a ruby the size of a marble dangling from the bracelet as a charm

Antila looked very pretty as well. Her curly black hair was held down by a purple barrette with a marble sized onyx gem on it . She wore a purple dress robe, black stockings, and tiny ballet flats. Two silver bracelets donned her wrists due to a constant outburst of accidental magic from her fingertips.

Charlus, holding Anita, sat down at their table to eat the six-course meal that the Ministry was serving their guests. He and his wife greeted people they knew as they passed by. They spoke to Abraxas Malfoy, his wife Druella Malfoy née Rosier, and their one-year-old son Lucius Malfoy. Why they would name their son something that sounded so close to luscious, Charlus didn't know. They greeted Theodore Nott, his wife Adona Nott, and their newborn son Atticus Nott. Albus Dumbledore had even seen fit to drop by and put in his two cents about how it wasn't too late for Charlus to turn away from the path of darkness, severely pissing him off, and putting him in a bad mood for the rest of the night. Phoebus Prince was the last familiar face to stop by their table. The Dark wizard hadn't been seen in public for some time because of his mysterious illness. "Phoebus, this is a surprise," Charlus asked, his eyebrows raised. "What brings you to our table?"

Dorea skillfully pretended not to listen as she rocked James to sleep. Besides, she needed something to gossip with the other pureblood wives about.

"I'm afraid this isn't a social call, Charlus," Phoebus replied, his face grave. "I'm here to collect the life debt you owe me for saving your life at your first Death Eater battle… You remember, I'm sure. You froze up. Tou remember, I'm sure. You froze up and was almost hit by Avada Kedavra."

Charlus visibly stiffened in his chair. "Please have a seat, Phoebus. Might as well tell me what you need. My mood has been permanently soured for the rest of the night, anyway," he said with a sigh, downing a glass of wine and looking around for a waiter. Spotting one, he waved him over.

"Get me a bottle of Louis XIII de Rémy Martin Cognac," Charlus said imperiously to the waiter. "If you get it to me quick, there might even be a tip in it for you."

After the waiter departed, Charlus focused his attention on Phoebus.

" Charlus, do you remember my sister Eileen?" Phoebus asked seriously.

Charlus had to put down his wine and think a minute. An image of a pale, thin, sullen-looking girl with a long face and bushy eyebrows came to mind, and he grimaced. Yes, how could he ever forget that—that hideous creature. The Gryffindors used to call her 'long face Prince' and 'creature from the swamp,' which when he thought about it _were_ pathetic names, but they stuck all the same.

"Yes, how can I ever forget little, sullen Eileen Prince? What about her?" Charlus replied dryly, taking his bottle of Louis XIII de Rémy Martin Cognac from the waiter with a glare, just daring the man to ask for a tip.

The waiter had some gall, though, and puffed out his chest, asking, " What about my tip?"

Charlus bristled at the disrespect in the mud-blood's tone.

Sneering nastily, Charlus replied, " You didn't get it here fast enough. Now get out of my sight before I have you fired."

The waiter scampered off in a flurry of robes, causing curious eyes to drift to the Potter table.

Charlus took a swig of his drink, motioning impatiently for Phoebus to continue.

"Well, my sister got herself knocked up by a muggle. Some abusive whelp named Tobias Snape. It was born in late January and I've been _concerned_ about _its _well-being. You see, her child will likely be the heir to the Prince line since I'm sterile and well on my way to dying. You know I've been sick ever since I was born, but my illness has finally caught up with me. Anyway, let me get to the point. If anything ever happens to me or my sister, I want you to take care of the child," Phoebus said seriously, sobering the mood of the table.

"At least tell me the little bugger's name," Charlus said somberly, taking another swig of his drink.

Sensing her father's distress, Antila squirmed in his arms. Charlus hastily passed her to his wife, rolling his eyes in irritation.

"His name is Serverus Phoebus Snape. A good strong name, if I do say so myself," Phoebus said proudly. "At least he has my middle name, so _it's_ okay, but it's still just a lowly half-blood."

"Fine. I'll think about it, Phoebus," Charlus replied, visibly annoyed. "Until then, you're dismissed."

Phoebus nodded wearily, and with the help of his cane, he stood and limped away.

Once Phoebus was out of sight, Dorea turned to him.

"What are you going to do, Charlus? You can't actually take on this task!" Dorea exclaimed softly, careful not to wake their children

"What can I do then, hmm? I owe the man a Life Debt… that makes me obligated to take this task! You give me a way to get out of this debt and then we'll talk about it," he shot back viciously. "So until you can figure out something, why don't you just sit back and shut up."

Charlus rubbed his temples. He had become increasingly agitated this whole night but now he was just pissed the fuck off. He hated public appearances. They made him pretend to be something he was not.

Dorea fell silent, stunned that he'd talked to her like that. Several minutes of silence passed.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Charlus," she said, finally gaining enough nerve to speak again. "It's time to go home."

Charlus made no protest, only managing to nod wearily.

Together Charlus and his wife made their way out of the Ministry Ball Room with their two children, unaware of all the eyes watching their backs. Change was in the air. Even so, a question remained: was the wizarding world ready for that change?


	12. A Change In Plans

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**A Change In Plans**

It had been seven years since that faithful night at the Ministry ball where Phoebus Prince had approached Charlus Potter in order to claim a life debt. Every since that night the two parties had not spoken to one another. The Potters did not call on Phoebus and he did not call on them. With a new Dark Lord on the rise, everyone was scrambling to either choose sides or hold on to the last semblance of safety they had.

The Potters did not have this problem. They were lucky enough to have already chosen sides and to be overlooked by others as outstanding _pureblood_ members of society. Of course, there were those who insisted that the Potters worked for the Dark Lord, such as members of a newly founded group called The Order Of the Phoenix, but they were never able to prove it. So the Potters lived a very comfortable life. Charlus Potter fought alongside the Dark Lord and gathered allies for him; Dorea Potter hosted parties for the Dark Lord, and their children grew up safe and happy. Little did they know something was about to happen that would change the very foundation of the Potter household.

**October 15, 1967**

**Potter Manor**

**7:24 AM**

Flippa, please alert young master James and Antila that breakfast will be served momentarily," Dorea Potter ordered her house-elf.

She'd been distracted all morning for one reason or another, unable to stay focused on the day's tasks. She felt like something was going to happen today. Good or bad, she didn't know, but the thoughts of something unforeseen happening made her nervous. A loud _pop_ interrupted her train of thought.

"Mistress, you have guests," Flippa said haughtily. "Flippa took the liberty of delivering mistress's guests to the drawing room. They are waiting for you now." At that, she popped out of existence, not bothering to wait for a dismissal.

Dorea scowled. Her daughter's house-elf was getting out of control. It had started to think it had rights, for goodness sake—not to mention that attitude! She would have to speak to her daughter about reigning in that little house-elf before she was given clothes. That would be the end of her future of serving at the Potter household.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Dorea made her way to the drawing room. She wasn't concerned about who the guests were. It was most likely a caterer who needed to finalize plans for tonight's party that was being thrown at Potter manor for the Dark Lord. It was going to be a grand affair. It was the only social event of the year when Dark and Neutral Purebloods could gather in peace and mingle. It was also a time to introduce their children to the Dark Lord so that he would meet his future followers.

She arrived at the drawing room in a matter of five minutes. She walked confidently into the room, only to stop in shock. Sitting on her couch was none other than Eileen Prince and a little boy that looked about James and Antila's age.

"Hello, Dorea," Eileen said self-consiously. "I hope this isn't a bad time."

"Oh no, dear, this isn't a bad time at all. My my, the years have been too kind to you," Dorea lied expertly, kissing the others woman's cheek while fighting down a grimace.

Eileen looked as dour as ever. She was still thin, with a long face and sallow skin, as sour-looking as ever. Dorea looked at the little boy next to Eileen, and took in his appearance. He was tall for his age but too thin for his tall frame, making his skin looked stretched. His skin was sallow like Eileen's but she got the impression that with a little sun that could change. His hair was a wavy dark black and lay limp and greasy, falling to his bony shoulders. His face had a fine bone structure with high cheekbones, black eyes, and a prominent nose. His teeth were a bit uneven and were starting to yellow, but that could be fixed.

Dorea was in love immediately. All she wanted to do was hold the young boy close to her and coo over how adorable he was and how everything he wanted he could get. She'd always loved children and this boy, as much as he resembled Eileen, was no exception. The only downside was that he was a half-blood but she was sure she could look past that, eventually. Noticing Dorea's staring, Eileen cleared her throat.

"This is my son Severus. He's actually the reason I'm here." Eileen said softly, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"Oh," was Dorea's only response. She felt dread creeping into her heart. Had something happened to Phoebus? Were they going to have to take in this little boy? What was wrong with his mother?

Instead of voicing her concerns, Dorea simply asked them if they would consider having breakfast with them. Eileen looked like she was going to refuse her offer before raking her eyes over her son's thin body. She nodded tersely, and looked away. Probably ashamed that she _had_ to accept the offer for her son, Dorea mused.

"Alright, well, follow me," Dorea said, standing abruptly. "If you're going to be eating with us we need to hurry. Breakfast is due to start in ten minutes." With that, Dorea made her way to the dining room at a brisk pace, the Snapes close behind.

Tltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltl

Severus Snape didn't know what to make of this Dorea lady. His mother had woken him up this morning from his small bed and helped him get dressed. She hadn't told him where they were going, preferring to pretend like she didn't hear his questions or brushing it off with vague answers such as, 'you'll know when we get there,' or ' we'll see.' He didn't even get his usual cold breakfast of mealie and a slice of ham before they left. The only good thing about this trip was that his father hadn't been there to stop them. He would have beaten them both to unconsciousness had he found out that they'd intended to go somewhere magical.

When they had arrived at their destination Severus had been amazed. He'd never seen a house so big! Actually he'd never even really seen a proper house. His family's house might as well have been a tiny little shack compared to the Potter's huge manor. When they had knocked, a house-elf had answered the door. Severus had been pleasantly surprised to see a live house-elf. Sure, his mother had told him all about the magical world, but it wasn't like the real thing. He couldn't experience real magic because they lived in a muggle area and he was sure his magic-hating father had something to do with it…

Mrs. Potter was the real surprise, actually. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and though he was ashamed to admit it, his own mother couldn't compare. He was happy to see that she didn't look at them with scorn or disgust like most people did. She just calmly took in their appearances and kept her opinions to herself. It was when she turned to look at him that he really felt something, though. Her attention had stayed focused on him for a long moment and the warmth in her eyes told him that she liked what she saw.

Mrs. Potter and his mom had started talking again after that, but he didn't pay them much attention. He was concentrating on how hungry he was. One'd think he'd be used to not eating much by now, but he wasn't. He was a growing boy and his body needed nutrients. His head snapped up when Mrs. Potter mentioned staying for breakfast. He'd wanted to scream 'yes' a thousand times, but the question was directed at his mother, not him. She looked hesitant and even ready to refuse. Catching her eye, he mentally vowed to never forgive her if she denied him this one chance to have a full meal. He nearly jumped with joy when his mother accepted, not caring how much it shamed her.

They followed Mrs. Potter down a bunch of winding passageways. So many, in fact, that he didn't think that he could find his way back to the drawing room if need be. Finally they arrived at the dining room, only to find three people already sitting at a table that seated ten. Severus hesitated. Of course he should have knew that _Mrs. _Potter didn't live alone but he was hoping….

There were two children at the table along with a man. The man was tall and broad-shouldered with long auburn hair pulled into a ponytail, pale skin, high cheekbones, and cold chestnut brown eyes. If his father was here, he would have called this man a classic pretty boy, but he could tell there was more to this cold-eyed man.

The child to the left of the man was a boy that looked about his age. His face was boyishly round and his expression sour. His eyes were a darker brown than the man's but just as cold. His hair was brown and unnaturally messy, sticking up in each and every direction. His skin was the only one that was tanned out of the whole family saying he spent a lot of time outside.

The child to the right of the man was a girl, but she looked around his age too. He had to admit that she was very pretty. She had the classic heart shaped face that the Greek poets had written about. Her eyes were a beautiful, vivid purple and seemed to shine. Her hair was a mass of curly black ringlets that fell around her face and to her back. Her skin was even paler than Mrs. Potter's. So pale that he could see most of the veins in her wrist. She was smiling at him, displaying perfectly even teeth, except her two front big teeth, a slight slant of her left front tooth making her look inviting and friendly.

He had to blush when he noticed she was smiling directly at him. He'd never seen such a pretty girl, except maybe Lily Evans back at home. But she was more of a natural beauty and this girl was more of a bred beauty. More sophisticated and classical but also more forced and restraining.

Mrs. Potter motioned for them to take a seat. They did so and to his embarrassment, he found himself sitting next to the young girl. He could feel himself blushing under her scrutiny, and he could feel her brother's angry eyes trying to burn a hole in his forehead. He wished the ground would just swallow him up.

Tltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltl

"Charlus, you remember Eileen Prince from school, don't you?" Dorea asked, her eyes pleading with her husband to be nice.

"Yes, how could I ever forget," he replied slowly. "And this must be her son Severus." As he spoke his eyes bored into the child that had chosen to sit by Antila.

"Yes, that is Severus. You know, the one Phoebus told us about, the one you _swore_ to protect, remember? He and Eileen are going to have breakfast with us. Then we'll discuss the reason they came to_ visit _us." Dorea said, making her wishes clear, and looking at Charlus and James specifically.

"Of course, mother," the children, muttered at the same time. Charlus in turn, uttered his dutiful, "Yes dear." But Dorea could see the mischief in both father and son's eye, and Antila's calculating gaze.

"Oh, forgive me for my bad manners," Dorea said, looking to Eileen. "Eileen, you remember my husband Charlus, of course. These are our children, James and Antila. They're seven, just like your son Severus."

"Of course… Charlus Potter, the bane of every Slytherin's existence," Eileen said with a scowl. "How could I forget?"

There was an awkward silence filled with Antila's smiling, Severus's blushing, James's glaring, Charlus muttering to himself about how he needed a drink, Eileen's fidgeting, and Dorea racking her brain for a topic of discussion.

When Dorea could stand it no more, their food appeared on the table. She mentally sighed in relief as everyone began eating. She didn't know how much more she could take of these awkward silences and fumbling for a topic that would drag out one-sentence and leave awkward silences again. She made sure to eat extra slow so she could put off the discussion for the reason that Eileen Snape had showed up on her doorstep with her son. She felt like this day would drag on forever. She had no idea how right she was.


	13. Family Relations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

After breakfast was over with, everyone was once again left in an awkward silence. Finally, Charlus broke the silence by clearing his throat.

" James, why don't you and your sister show young _master_ Snape your rooms?" He said looking to James imploringly.

James nodded, carefully concealing his anger at his father's request. He knew a demand when he heard one. He stood along with his sister, and beckoned to the taller boy. They exited the room and closed the door behind them.

The last thing that James heard was his father's voice saying, "Now, Mrs. _Snape_, what exactly do you want with our family?"

tltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltlttltlt

James was leading Snape and his sister down to the Quidditch Pitch. He had no intention of showing this boy his room. Ever. The only thing that was on his mind right now was how angry he was at his father. He blatantly favored his sister over him because she had his affinity for dark magic, while he on the other hand had an affinity for light magic. James, despite what others thought, was quite intelligent. He understood that his father didn't see him when he looked at him, but rather someone else. One day he would confront his father about his feelings, but for now he would focus on making his father see only him, James Potter when he looked at him, his son.

tltltltltltltltlltltltltltltltltltltlltllttltltlltltltltlt

Antila followed after her brother with a bored look on her face. She knew this was probably another of her brother's pathetic attempts to get their father's attention. She thought it was pointless, not to mention embarrassing. If someone doesn't like you, then they just don't like you. Why waste valuable time _and_ money trying to change that? Her friend Lucius Malfoy had taught her that quite thoroughly.

For now, though, she would just go along with her brother's idiotic plan. As long as he didn't try to speak to her or god forbid _touch_ her, she wouldn't be forced to hurt him. It wasn't that she hated her brother, no, quite the opposite actually. It was just his affinity for light magic shocked and appalled her. She couldn't stand his touch; she could barely stand his presence. Her very soul rejected the light in his body it disgusted her. But, she forced herself to get over it for the sake of sibling love. But god help her if he tried anything and she meant anything at all, she would show him why she was called the dark prodigy.

tltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltlltltltltltltltltltlt

Severus Snape didn't know what to think of the twins. At first the girl, Antlia, had seemed perfectly nice. She'd smiled and even talked to him a bit during breakfast. But as soon as they'd exited the dinning room her polite expression had morphed into one of calm calculation. It was creepy to say the least, seeing that expression on a seven-year-olds face. But it was nothing compared to the look of hatred and determination in James Potter's eyes.

Quite frankly, both of them scared him out. They were both too emotionally developed for seven-year-olds, seeming to have advanced thoughts as well. Or maybe it was just him. Maybe he was the one who was emotionally repressed. Well, he didn't really care to know or find out. He would just try to stay on both of their good sided. That was if James had a good side.

tltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltltlt

James was relieved when they finally arrived at the Quidditch pitch. He could feel his sister's sharp gaze on his back every since they'd left the dinning room, and it scared him. He'd always been at least a little afraid of his sister because of her mastery of the Dark Arts, and he resented the fact that she inspired fear in him.

"This is our family's Quidditch pitch. We play a sport called Quidditch here on the pitch. I hope you know how to fly because I'm not going to teach you." He said for the Snape boy's benefit.

'Don't be an ass, James. Come on Sev, I'll teach you how to fly. Then we can all play Quidditch together." Antila said walking off to the broom shed with Snape following behind her like a besotted puppy.

"You better not let mother catch you using that kind of language or she'll tan your hide!" He screamed after her.

"Whatever," was her only response.

Pouting petulantly, James sat down on a bench and waited for his sister to return. He really hated it when he wasn't in charge of things. When his sister came back she was carrying two brooms, while Snape trailed behind her carrying his own.

"For you," she said simply tossing the broom his way, and heading to the pitch, Snape right behind her.

James sighed. He really wanted to hate the taller boy for stealing his sister's attention away from him but he couldn't. He found himself involulantarily pitying the boy for the hard life he must have had. I mean it wasn't hard for him to tell that the boy's life had been a hard one. He wasn't that far off from being skeletally thin, he practically inhaled his food at breakfast, he had three servings of breakfast that probably would have been more had the boy's mother not stopped him, and his clothes were threadbare. As he reviewed the facts in his head for a third time, James found himself promising to be nice to the taller boy, if only in his head. With those thoughts out of the way he settled down to watch his sister and Snape.

James had been watching his sister teach Snape to fly for no more than an hour when his mother showed up unexpectedly.

"M-Mother, what a surprise. What are you doing here?" James stuttered in surprise.

She looked at him disapprovingly.

"Now, I know your father and I didn't pay for all those speech lessons for nothing. Get your sister; we're heading to Diagon Alley to pick up your dress robes for the party, and to do some last minute shopping. Bring the other boy too; your father wants to have a word with him when we get back." Dorea said.

James merely nodded, happy to have something to do. _'Maybe today won't be so boring after all.'_


	14. Children Gone Astray

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

They arrived at the Diagon Alley in no time. The children were all excited to be going to Diagon Alley, Severus for the first time. James was excited because he knew he could convince his mother to buy him a new broom, while Antila was just bored with the whole thing. She **hated** Diagon Alley. It was filled with the feelings of cheer and happiness, two things she absolutely hated. She much preferred Knockturn Alley. Lucky for her the rise of a new Dark Lord and his latest attacks had dimmed the moods of the occupants of Diagon Alley. Leaving them feeling sober and skittish, like the Dark Lord was going to suddenly appear out of nowhere and attack them. Hell, with their luck he just might.

Dorea made her way down the streets, a permanent sneer on her face concealing her dismay at how dull Diagon Alley had seemed to become since she was little.

"Mother, can we go to Quality Quidditch Supplies, please? I want a new broom!" James declared excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his shoes.

"Stop acting like an idiot, James. You're embarrassing us! You know father would never approve of your behavior, acting like an excited mud-blood in public. You do our family shame!" Antila hissed venomously, disapproval heavy in her voice.

Dorea froze at Antila's words. Her daughter was too much like Dorea's family, the Blacks. She was constantly belittling others, putting on airs, masking her true feelings, and was never truly happy unless others were miserable. Sometimes she found it hard to look at her daughter, remembering how innocent she was when she was just born lying in her arms. Ignoring Antila's hateful words, Dorea smiled at her son.

" Yes James, we can visit Quality Quidditch Supplies, but I have to go to Gringotts first to pick up some galleons. We also still have to pick up Antila and your robes, and maybe see if we can get one made for Severus." She said making sure to smile at Severus too; she didn't want him to feel excluded.

For her effort to include him she received a shy smile in return from Severus, but his face visibly lit up.

Antila's on the other hand soured. She couldn't stand her weak willed mother. It annoyed her to no end how she always bent to the will of others, even poor, pathetic James. Okay, so he had irresistible puppy dog eyes. Who cares? He didn't even have to break out his secret weapon for her to crack. If there was one thing Antila hated it was a weak woman. It was not that she hated her mother, it was just that her mother-much like her brother- annoyed her to no end, and she had to get used to them. One might think that her family had a lot of relationship problems, and they'd be right. Nothing about her family was normal. She sighed in frustration. She was already bored with their little field trip. Smirking to herself she began making plans in her head. There was no way she was wasting another trip to Diagon Alley with boring little routine trips to boring little routine stores.

Dorea continued on to Gringotts, oblivious of her daughter's plotting and the many hairs she would loose by the time the night was over, and all over her daughter's violent tendencies.

tltltltltltltlttltltltltltltltltltlttltltltltltt

They arrived at Gringotts quickly. The bank wasn't particularly busy seeing as most people were still at work this time of day. Thankfully they were able to go straight to a goblin teller, but not before Severus noticed an inscription on the bank's door.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there._

Surprised and more than a little scared, Severus asked Dorea about it.

"It's a warning, nothing more. If you're not a thief then you have nothing to worry about." The woman said firmly.

"Welcome to Gringotts Wizarding bank, how may I, Bloodfang be of assistance to you?" A particularly ugly goblin asked with a sneer, saying he didn't really care what they wanted.

"Yes, I'm Dorea Potter here to make a withdrawal." Dorea replied with an equally patronizing sneer.

"Yes, and do you have your key, Mrs. Potter," Bloodfang asked leaning forward in anticipation, practically daring her to say she didn't have the key.

" Yes, I have my key. So you can stop leaning forward like a starving dog who's just found his next meal." Dorea snapped angrily.

"Very well, follow me." Bloodfanf said, disappointment evident in his tone.

"Wait here, this won't take long." Dorea ordered rushing after the goblin, never knowing what a mistake she was making.

tltltltltltltltltltltltltltltlttltltlttl

Antila sighed in relief when she saw her mother disappear along with the goblin. Now her plan could officially get started. She sidled over to Severus, looking at him under lowered lashes. "Whatcha doing?" She asked, favoring him with a warm smile.

"I-I'm just waiting for your mother to return," Severus said nervously, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

"Fascinating," Antila said, widening her eyes for effect. "How do you feel about exploring the wizarding world in a little more depth? I know this great little place called Knockturn Alley, it's full of magical artifacts that the ministry bands because they don't understand them. But I know you're different, I know you can appreciate the unique magic that Knockturn Alley can offer. That's why I'm offering you this once in a lifetime experience to go where many fully-grown wizards and witches are afraid to go. So, do you want to go?" All during her speech she had been steadily making her way closer to Snape making him back up until he hit the wall. Now she was uncomfortably close to Severeus, her breath uncomfortably hot on his face making him want to squirm in anticipation for reasons he didn't understand.

"Going to meet Lucius, your boyfriend," James broke in tauntingly.

"He's not my boyfriend," Antila cried, but both boys noticed a very light dusting of pink on her cheeks. Before James could tease her further Antila distracted him.

"James do you want your broom, now? Cause if you do, we can go get it. I nicked a few galleons from some people in Diagon Alley, and I know Sev did as well," Severus squirmed guiltily, " we can pick up an ice cream from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, and then we can head to the Gambol and Japes joke shop, what do you think?" She asked smiling sweetly.

James appeared to be thinking it over. She was tempted to make a snide remark about idiots and thinking, but didn't want to push her luck.

"No Knockturn Alley, right? I promised mother I'd never go there." James asked skeptically.

"Yes of course, no Knockturn Alley, but you know if we do go there I can protect you. I know that alley like the back of my hand. Besides, no one would mess with the Dark Lord's right hand man's children." She said with a persuasive smile.

"Well alright, I guess it's okay." James finally lamented.

"Excellent! Let's go then!" Antila yelled excitedly, eyes dancing with a mischief.

She hooked her arms with both boys and casually strolled out of the bank as if she was not a minor going astray from her parent. 'Yes, she mused happily, 'today is not such a boring day after all.'


	15. Experiencing and Discovering

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

The three children had a grand time in Diagon Alley. They couldn't decide where to go first, so they decided to start from the top. The first place they went was the apothecary. It was a fascinating shop filled with all sorts of things. There were barrels of slimy stuff lined up on the floor and jars of all sorts of powders, herbs, and other things along the wall. Bundles of feathers, fangs, and claws hung from the ceiling. The whole places smelled very badly, though; like a mixture of bad eggs and rotten cabbages, and had them rushing them to leave. But not before they bought Sev a potions starter kit. Apparently, he was in love with the subject, and by the time they left, Slugs and Jiggers Apothecary itself.

The second place they went was Quality Quidditch Supplies. It was full of brooms, autographed Quidditch robes, posters, and Quidditch cards. They had to practically drag James from the shop after he threw a tantrum when he realized they didn't have enough money for his broom. He was in a foul mood before they arrived at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, where they each bought a cone. Bat Ears for Antila, Gooey Frog Guts for James, and a simple Knickerbockers Glory for Sev.

Next on the list was Flourish and Blotts.

"Why do we have to go there, its so boring," James grumbled irritably.

"Don't be difficult James, I just want to give Sev a chance to look around, and you know, find something he's into. Why don't you find yourself a book about Quidditch or Dueling or something, Okay? Just don't ruin this for Sev," Antila nearly begged, on the verge of snapping tired of her brother's pettiness.

"Fine," he conceded, but a scowl was permanently fixed on his lips.

They walked into the store and looked around for a good minute, but couldn't find anything that really interested them. James ordered a subscription from the magazine of 'Quidditch Monthly', and Sev found a book on potions for beginners. A book that really caught their attention though, was one called, Occulemency, the Art of Protecting Your Mind, by Albion Potter.

"Do you think he's related to us?" James whispered in aw, staring at the book.

"It's possible, I did see an Albion Potter on our family tapestry," Antila admitted reluctantly.

"What's Occulemency?" Severus asked confusedly.

"I'm not sure, but if one of our oldest relatives wrote about it, it's bound to be important, maybe even an ancient, forgotten art." Antila whispered in aw.

"Whatever, let's just add it to the pile of books and go." James said snapping out of his trance.

"Okay, what books do we have?" Antila questioned, prepared to do some serious figuring in her head.

"We have Sev's potion book which is ten sickles, the magazine subscription is one galleon, a book of the fairy tales of the wizarding world, which includes the story of the Erklings, your favorite, is six sickles, and last but not least, the Occulemency book is five galleons." Jmaes counted off, as Sev piled them on the clerks counter.

"Okay so that's six galleons and sixteen sickles," Antila said rummaging through her pocket. "We only have fifteen galleons left."

"Where are we going next?" Antila asked wearily.

"You said we could go to Gambol and Japes, you know, the joke shop?" James said with puppy dog eyes.

"Uh, fine! You take Sev with you, I'm going to make a quick trip to the street peddlers section. I want to pick something up." Antila said mysteriously.

James eyed her suspiciously for a minute before shrugging.

"Okay, just meet us when you're done," was all he said before pulling Sev away, but Sev resisted.

"Look, I know I'm new to this world and all, but in all the movies I've seen and books I've read, run away kids who split up never get back together. There's always something tragic that happens like they're raped or killed. Do you want that to happen to you?" Sev asked, his black eyes boring into her violet ones.

Antila sighed in frustration. "Look, the peddler I'm going to talk to will be right there in front of Gambol and Japes, now can you two idiots stop panicking and go!" She snapped annoyed. "Besides, if worst comes to worst I can handle myself."

"Excuse me if I sound skeptical, but you don't look like you've ever been in a fight in your life," Sev said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Look stretch, as good as it is to know that you can talk and show emotions such as concern, you're staring to piss me the fuck off! If you don't start listening to me and trusting what I say, me and you aren't going to get along very well," Antila growled eyes darkening to black.

"Alright, I get your point. Let's go James." Sev said warily, realizing he shouldn't have questioned Antila's intentions.

When they were gone, Antila made her way over to the street peddlers cart thinking, '_ I wonder what mother is doing right about now.'_


	16. Interlude

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

Tom Marvolo Riddle formerly known as Voldemort was in a foul mood. It seemed that his right hand man, Charlus Potter and his wife, Dorea Potter, had canceled the party that was going to be held at the Potter's manor. This annoyed him because he was going to take that opportunity to recruit more followers to his cause. Either the Order of the Phoenix or the Ministry was continuously killing off a lot of his more inexperienced followers. It was severely pissing him off that all of his plans were being canceled one after another, and his plans for recruitment were failing. It seemed no one wanted to participate in an ongoing war, even if it would change the world.

"My lord, I've just received a message from Charlus Potter via owl. It seems his children and the Prince heir has went missing in Diagon Alley and he requires our assistance to find them." Said Abraxas Malfoy, stepping up in front of him.

Voldemort froze; this wasn't apart of his plans.

"What!" He roared incensed.

"Yes, well it seems that Dorea Potter took the children to Diagon Alley for some last minute shopping for the party, but they pretty much went AWOL while she was in Gringotts. They've been spotted in almost every store suitable for children since then, spending a whole lot of money that is reasonably not theirs. What are your orders my lord, should we help out, or sit back and wait?" Abraxas asked, breaking into a light sweat.

Voldemort sat back on his throne in thought. He didn't particularly like any of the Potter children except for maybe Antila. Her dark magic gift was more advanced than her father's and had the potential to grow to be even more powerful. Ah, yes, Antila Potter, so sweet, innocent, and brilliant in the most childish way possible. Or at least se was before he started influencing her.

He remembered the first time he'd ordered her to be brought to him. Charlus was reluctant to the point where Voldemort thought he might choose to run to a whole different country rather than let him see his precious daughter. When he finally saw her he understood, though. She was beautiful in every sense of the world, and could make a perfectly normal man think about becoming a pedophile, but not him of course. He played for the other team anyway.

He'd begun tutoring her in all sorts of Dark magic, but she didn't have the heart for it. She would break down in tears from the simplest of pain curses, and would get sick to the point of almost dying when she had to perform the Unforgivables. It was actually quite annoying, prompting him to formulate a new plan.

Antila Potter didn't have the heart to be a true Dark wizard, but she did have her dark magic talent and that's what he wanted. He wanted a whole army full of dark magic talented soldiers, and that's where she came in. She was going to supply him with numerous heirs when she was of age, and while he played for the other team she was quite lovely enough for him to overlook that. But of course things don't always go as planned.

Antila found out about his plans, and turned to the only person that she trusted enough to help her at the time, Walburga Black. Walburga confronted him about the whole thing, but instead of being angry she was ecstatic, she wanted in on the whole thing. She wanted Antila to marry one of her brats and keep the dark magic talent in the Black line, but of course that wasn't going to happen, so he obliviated her and filled her head with false thoughts. They'd come to an agreement, he'd swore an unbreakable vow that Antila would marry one of her brats, who were so closely related that they could have been Antila's cousins, hell they probably were her cousins. But of course, those were false thoughts. Someone'd never back him into a corner with inferior magic to his own.

Antila still resisted, though. She undoubtedly felt betrayed by Walburga, but she never let it show. Over time her heart seemed to harden and she got used to the Dark arts training. She still cried herself to sleep at night when she thought no one could see her, but he knew, and he finally sealed the deal insuring that Antila Potter would be his faithful servant in the future. He'd presented her with the Slytherin locket, one of his horcrux, the item that would seal her fate. She'd put it on of course, delighted in a piece of beautiful jewelry for her to show off, how naïve she was back then. Every since then his horocrux had been influencing her thoughts, actions, and feelings, dictating what was important, and what wasn't; and of course bringing her one step closer to being his faithful servant.

Should he send his men to help in the search for the three children? He had no use for James with his light magic talent, and the Prince boy was nothing more than a half-blood, but Antila

, Antila had his horcrux. If the light side captured her they would undoubtedly examine each and every one of those children to see if they had any connection with the Dark Lord, including jewelry.

"Everyone of you go help Charlus out! Except you Abraxas, you stay," he hissed silkily.

All of the Death Eaters scrambled out of the room, leaving behind a nearly hyperventilating Abraxas.

"Abraxas, your boy, Lucius, he has contact with Ms. Potter, does he not? I want you to question your son-_thoroughly_-about Ms. Potter's disappearance, he may know something." He said calmly, but his eyes were shining malevolently.

"My lord, with all do respect, my son is only eight-years-old. I really don't think he has anything to do with this-," He was abruptly cut off when Voldemort screamed, " Crucio!"

Abraxas writhed on the floor in pain, screaming himself hoarse, until Voldemort release the curse after approximately thirty seconds.

"It's not your place to question my orders. When I give you orders its not a conversation, nor is it a negotiation, you get up and go do the whatever the fuck I told you to do." Voldemort whispered harshly. "You're dismissed!"

As soon as Abraxas was gone, he sat back in his chair and summoned a house-elf, he needed himself some hardcore liquor to forget all his problems.


	17. Chapter 17

Okay so right now I'm contemplating on either rewriting my stories or giving them up to someone else who would like to complete it. If you're interested send me a message. The only requirement I that you have at least one story of your own written that I can read before I turn my story over to you. Let me know if you're interested.

-Midnight Writer Shadrach


End file.
